


Her Fire

by Kairyn



Series: Hair Like Fire [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Female Narvi, For determamfidd, Gen, Red-Headed Elf, Sad, based on Sansukh, description of torture, did I mention sad?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 01:30:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8125276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kairyn/pseuds/Kairyn
Summary: "I've seen good, innocent, true-hearted people hardened by the world," Narvi said, and her eyes were dark and glittered strangely. "I've seen naivety punished and gentleness broken. It's not a new tale."
   ...   There's not a single one of us," Haban said quietly, "who can even come close to hating Sauron as much as Narvi does." ~From Sansukh by determamfidd





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [determamfidd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/determamfidd/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Sansûkh](https://archiveofourown.org/works/855528) by [determamfidd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/determamfidd/pseuds/determamfidd). 



> I've been working on this Narvi/Celebrimbor story pretty much since Narvi got a speaking part in Sansukh. I deliberately left it open to whether they were just friends or more than that (but personally I feel like if they weren't more than they should have been). For some reason I just have a cheerful carefree Elf in my head for Celebrimbor which makes what happened to him all the sadder... Narvi's characterization was a bit trickery for me. I hope I got her right compare to how she is in Sansukh. Also, I don't _know_ if Narvi died first but... well it's sadder if she did.

She was _working_ , she thought with a bit of annoyance. Why was that so hard to see? Her latest invention was giving her trouble, and her workshop was cluttered with attempts at making it work and in walks half her problems. She ignored him, since –as mentioned- she was busy _working_. Not that that stopped him from just flittering around her things, picking things up and examining them while humming. His humming. Ugh, he could never seem to work without it. That low meandering tune that didn’t match the fervent nature of fire and forge work in the least. 

She shook her head and put him out of his mind. Instead, she turned her attention to the gears she was fighting with. Really, they were just being stubborn. She knew she had crafted them to fit together snugly but easily so she really shouldn’t be having so much trouble. It was just the way the plate all the gears sat on was molded. To fit with the other pieces it had to be a slightly curved plate and though it would work flawlessly –she was confident she had managed to work it all out- the curve did make fitting the necessary components onto it a bit of an issue. 

Her tool slipped, and she mentally cursed. She didn’t want to leave any obscene scratches or dents on the surface. She prided herself on no foolish mistakes like that. She hadn’t scratched a piece she was working on since she was just an apprentice. She narrowed her eyes and went back to try again.

As she fought with the Mahal-damned piece, a slender hand as pale and glowing as the finest Mithril vein came from the edge of her vision to hold the plate to the table. She grunted in place of thanks and bent herself to finishing. His fingers were utterly ridiculous, she decided. They looked far too delicate to hold a hammer properly although she’d seen his swing and knew it was surprisingly good. Alright, alright, it was very good, but she didn’t have to admit it out loud.

She finished fitting the gears together and finally looked up. “I could have managed,” she said a bit harsher than she intended, but then she was always harsher than intended with him.

He smiled. “I have no doubt about that, Master Narvi, but I thought I might offer my assistance anyway.” 

Narvi looked him over for a moment. His ridiculous height made him ill-suited to being in her Dwarvish workshop, but he somehow avoided hitting his head. A brilliant firefall of hair as red as any Firebeard cascaded down his back while a few rebellious strands tried desperately to cling to his delicately pointed ears. She rather thought that if his hair had been short -and not halfway down his back- it might have had a bit of curl to it. Not much, for he was still an elf and they had the straightest silkiest hair ever imaginable, but perhaps just enough to give him trouble. He didn’t have that mass of hair braided back today, and that meant he hadn’t been working at any forges. He only ever bothered to braid it –usually messily and half lopsided- when it was in danger of catching fire. She’d never known an elf to pay so little attention to their hair, but too each their own. Plus, she’d seen him working enough to know that when he wanted to _actually_ work rather than be a bother he was rather single-minded about the whole thing and that rather hindered hair care, she supposed.

“Not going to work today?” she asked when she felt the silence was beginning to linger on too long.

His blue eyes as brilliant as the hottest flames sparked with interest. “I have been drafting, and I thought you might like to see what I designed,” he said holding up several rolled up parchments.

“Why would I want to do that?” she asked as she turned away from those now pouting blue eyes. Despite their color being akin to some of the hottest flames, they were not harsh. They didn’t carry the unforgiving sting of fire and instead had a gentleness and naivety that made Narvi grit her teeth. How could such an ancient being still be so… innocent? It was annoying!

He bent down beside her, still pouting as she determinedly went back to her own work. “Come now, Mellon-nin, your King said we should work on this together.”

Narvi sighed with more than a little frustration and put her tools to the side. “Very well, show me,” she ordered. If only King Durin hadn’t said to work with him. Narvi really rather work alone. She had her own way of doing things and her way of doing things worked.

He smiled and Narvi felt embarrassed _for_ him. It was so bloody open and annoyingly _happy._ For no reason. Still, she said nothing and instead looked down at her workbench where he was spreading out several different parchments full of designs and mechanisms and all sorts of things. Narvi was intrigued despite herself.

He might be a flittering firebug that hummed when he worked and had eyes that were both young and old, but he still had a terribly brilliant mind. Narvi hadn’t yet put much thought into the doors they were to build. She had other projects that she had to finish before she could set to that one. But his drawings allowed her to think about it for more than a second and instantly she began to puzzle it out. “Clever,” she grunted as she flipped through the various designs. “But this one won’t work with stone.”

“Mm, I was afraid of that,” he admitted. “But I couldn’t resist designing it anyway. Perhaps I can use it somewhere else later.”

She glanced over and saw that he had knelt down fully and had his brilliant head of his resting on one of his folded arms, which was against her worktable. He didn’t seem to notice that metal shavings from her work were now stuck to the fine green fabric of his tunic. “I could get you a chair,” she said dryly. He had to be sitting practically on the ground to be resting his head like that.

He hummed a little as if just noticing her. “Oh, no I’m fine.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t see how you are Lord of anything,” she muttered before putting that out of her mind and going back to his designs. He laughed, not seemingly offended at all. She just shook her head. He never seemed to be offended somehow.

As she continued to study his work and put her own notes on it, she realized he was humming again. “Can’t you just not hum?” she asked. “It’s distracting.”

“Is it? I’m sorry, Mellon-nin, I don’t even notice I’m doing it most of the time,” he admitted. “I’ll try not to if it bothers you though.”

Narvi grunted. “It wouldn’t if there was any sort of tune to it.” She wouldn’t mind if she could hammer in time with it but whatever he was humming was not suited to being a hammer song. Probably some Elvish lament to the stars. Narvi sighed and turned her attention back to the diagrams. It wasn’t five minutes before he was humming again.

* * *

“Mellon-nin! What a surprise! It is so rare to see you away from your workshop!”

She blinked and looked up from the measurements that she had been scribbling on her plans. If they were ever going to get this door done, she needed to know how big to make the thing. Narvi looked over and couldn’t help but stare. “What in Mahal’s name happened to you?”

He stopped and seemed confused. “Whatever do you mean?”

Narvi gestured –a touch impatiently- to him with her hand, which held her compass, pencil, ruler, and a pair of calipers. “Khel! You look like you had a fight with one of your own Holly trees!”

He looked down at his torn clothing. “Ah. Well, I suppose I rather did… I had climbed one to take in the view better and then needed to get down again. I was in a hurry, you see.”

She stared at the so-called noble Elf Lord for several minutes before sighing. “You’ve leaves and twigs all in your hair. Come here,” she ordered. Honestly, he was brilliant but so terribly impossible. It was remarkable they’d settled on any part of the door design that they were working on. Partially because they kept coming up with new ones that were even better than the first, both of their faults really, but not the point.

Celebrimbor seemed slightly taken aback but came over to where she was sitting anyway. “I have a few more things to worry about than my hair,” he said although he obediently sat down beside her. Despite his long limbs, he made a graceful picture sitting there on the rocky riverbed.

Narvi rolled her eyes again and set her work carefully to the side. “It’s a wonder you bother keeping it so long in the first place. You never take care of it,” she said as she turned upon her rock. At the position she was in and where he was sitting she had easy access to his fiery mane. She hesitated for a moment before shaking her head. She was being silly. Elves didn’t have the same privacy with their hair that dwarves did. And if Celebrimbor cared he wouldn’t have come over at all.

“Elves don’t cut their hair,” Celebrimbor offered as Narvi carefully picked some of the debris from his hair. He stared up at the cheerful blue sky and slowly relaxed backward. He rarely found himself able to slow down. Though he’d often heard he would be able to manage his boundless energy as he grew older, that had never happened. He simply always had to be doing something. If his mind wasn’t bent fully to a task he had to occupy himself other ways.

Narvi tried her best to not touch his actual hair –Narvi was blunt, but she wasn’t that rude- but it was impossible. Holly leaves had wound their way between the long strands and wouldn’t allow themselves to be just pulled free. Finally, though, she gave up trying to untangle the mass without touching it and carded her fingers through it. 

Oh, it should not be so thick. Elves didn’t have thick hair she didn’t think and yet his was definitely thick, although smooth as any fine silk. It curled around her fingers for a brief moment before relenting and straightening. The leaves and twigs that had managed to tangle themselves in the length took a bit more effort to get rid of, but she managed it. If he’d had a Dwarf’s hair… well, Narvi wouldn’t have ever gotten it untangled. She wouldn’t have dared to touch it either. 

“You should braid this more often,” Narvi muttered as she watched the thick red clumps of living silk stream through her fingers. It was like trying to hold fire, utterly impossible, and yet it didn’t burn her to try. It just flowed away from her grasp.

“Mm, I braid it in the forge,” Khel said almost absently as he tilted his face up towards the sun.

Narvi stared down at him for a moment before going back to his hair. She was glad nobody was around to see such a scene, as she couldn’t quite help from running her fingers through the ridiculous length of it. It really was magnificent. She’d never seen another Elf with red hair before. It was a glory, especially here in the sunlight where it seemed to come alive even more. It was liquid fire –or more appropriately lava- that she continued to run her fingers through. He didn’t seem to notice that she’d gotten all of the twigs out by this point.

It really was a pity he didn’t do more with it. Her mind instantly began to sketch out a way to hold it all back. Jewelry was really more Khel’s expertise, but he would never design something for himself so Narvi would have to do it. Gold with emeralds and sapphires would be lovely she thought. She wouldn’t want to bring rubies into it. They would only compete with the rich red of his hair. And they would lose to Celebrimbor’s hair.

“I don’t see you out here often, Narvi… what were you doing?” he asked after several long minutes.

“Measurements,” she answered, still carding her fingers through his hair as she thought about a hair clasp. She wondered if he’d use it if she made it for him…

“Ah, I thought we already did that?”

Narvi snorted. “We did. King Durin wanted to change the size we had already decided on.”

With how his head was tilted she saw the slight frown that crossed his face. His eyes were closed as he basked in the sun rather like a giant cat and he didn’t bother to open them. “Really? We made it equal in size to the other door, though,” he said, obviously confused.

“He wanted this one smaller,” Narvi replied. “I don’t know why don’t ask me.”

His frown grew a little more. “I dislike asymmetry,” he muttered. 

She couldn’t help but laugh some at the expression on his face. “No one will be able to tell, Khel. The other doors are on the other side of the mountain,” she pointed out.

“But I’ll _know_ it’s not even,” he complained. “Are you sure he wants it smaller?”

“He was pretty clear,” Narvi replied as she watched the sunlight bounce off the red locks in front of her. Oh yes, she would have to do something about this. It was a disgrace to not keep it in any sort of order.

Celebrimbor sighed heavily. “I suppose if the King commands it we should accommodate.” 

Narvi shook her head. “How is that visitor of yours?”

“Hm?”

“Your visitor,” she repeated a bit more firmly. “You said last time I saw you that an emissary of Äule had come.” Really, where was his mind half the time?

“Ah, yes…” he said, and the frown was back.

Narvi was a little surprised at the expression on his face. At first, he had seemed so excited about his visitor. “What is it?”

He finally opened his eyes again though he was looking up at the sky. “Annatar is indeed very skilled. We have learned much from him. He’s just said some odd things from time to time. It’s probably nothing. He was sent by the Valar after all,” he said thoughtfully.

“What odd things?” Narvi questioned.

Celebrimbor shook his head, dragging more of his fine hair through Narvi’s calloused fingers. “I’m sure it’s nothing, Narvi. Forget I mentioned it at all. He truly has been teaching us so much. I’ll be able to forge wonderful new things. Most of what he’s been teaching us is in forging rings, but I’m sure I can apply it to other things as well. I’ll have to show you when we’re done.”

The Dwarven craftswoman rolled her eyes. There he was. All excited as a wide-eyed child a fraction of his age. She had been worried for a moment by his strange caution, but it had obviously been a fleeting thing. “So you’re making rings?”

“Mm, yes,” he agreed with a bright smile. It was as pure as the sunlight itself. “They are really quite magnificent. I’m making one for King Durin.”

Narvi was a little surprised. “Are you now?”

“Of course!” Khel said as he sat up a bit straighter and half turning to face her. “He is my friend and ally just as you are! I would be remiss to not use my new skills to craft him something.”

“Durin would be happy with us finishing his doors, Khel,” Narvi pointed out.

He waved a delicate hand in a strange flutter. “He will take both. Besides, I have very little skill in working with stone. As you have often reminded me.”

“You haven’t the patience for it,” Narvi said in a pseudo-agreement. He couldn’t seem to take his time and find the subtle grains of stone and work with them. He would much rather try and force the stone, which only resulted in shattering it instead of sculpting it. And one could not reforge stone.

“Mm, that’s why I’m letting you do it,” he said lightly. “You’re so much better.”

“Let me do all the work while you laze about, more like,” she said although she was secretly pleased by the compliment. Despite his oddities, Khel really was a gifted craftsman. For him to praise her skill was no small thing. It probably shouldn’t make her smile as it did. He was still shifting all the work to her. “You, Elf Lord, are terribly unreliable.”

“And you, Mellon-nin, are incredibly severe,” he replied. “Any more serious and you would be made of the stone you live within.”

She tugged on one clump of hair. “You think you’re clever, but you’re not,” she said dryly. “For all your pretty trinkets you make you can’t even come up with a decent insult.”

He laughed, bright and cheerful and full of life. “Well, I would not wish to pain you over much,” he said with a wicked twinkle in his blue eyes. 

“As if you could ever pain me.” She rolled her eyes, yet again, and told herself that she hated his flightiness. His brilliant smile and the way his eyes lit up with joy at the most innocent childish things. And yet, he was a burning flame that drew her despite her efforts. He burned under the light of the sun with such vibrancy that it couldn’t be contained.

* * *

Narvi watched from the doorway and shook her head. He was at it again. Not working. Luckily, when he did work, he was so good and focused. When he got started on his crafting, he could go days and days without stopping. It was just the effort to get him to actually start the work that was the hard part. He was forever getting distracted. This time, however, she couldn’t manage to get annoyed with him despite trying.

Khel’s laughter rang out warm and sweet and comforting. The Dwarflings that were crowded around him were begging for stories and games and presents. He always brought them presents (usually ones he had made) and was far too willing to play their childish games. He was a hugely overgrown child himself most of the times. Two of the smallest Dwarflings were clinging to his long legs and looking up at him with pleading eyes.

He laughed again, and Narvi smiled before moving away from the wall. She might as well save him before he got crushed under an avalanche of tiny Dwarves. “Khel, come on. We’re going to be late,” she called.

He turned to look at her and his eyes were sparkling. The Dwarflings let up a chorus of disapproval. He smiled down at them. “Now now, Narvi is right. But I will come back and play with you later,” he promised them. Still, they begged him but for once, he managed to hold his ground. Although not without giving more promises of visiting them later and more presents.

“You are truly ridiculous,” Narvi commented as they made their way through Khazad-dum. “You spoil those children.”

“Children should be spoiled,” he replied lightly. Narvi idly noticed that his hair was a mess again this time from spinning and running around with energetic children. She really needed to finish that clasp. “If I had my own I would definitely spoil them. Besides, I enjoy their company, and they seem to like mine in return.” 

Narvi looked up at her companion. “They only like you because you buy them sweets and bring them toys.”

A remarkable startled look crossed his ageless face. “My dear Narvi, are you saying I _bribe_ them to enjoy my company?” He sounded terribly scandalized by the very thought of it.

“Yes.”

He laughed again, and Narvi was glad to hear it. He did bring a certain warmth to everything around him. Like the fire whose essence was caught within the strands of his forever ignored hair.

As they made their way through the halls, Narvi allowed her Elf companion to do most of the talking. Occasionally they were greeted by other Dwarves, but they didn’t stop, and Khel continued to chatter on. He was rambling on about some new trinket he was forging for Galadriel and Narvi listened avidly as he went to great lengths describing how he was forging it. It wasn’t as if Narvi could ever claim to know the secrets of forging in Gondolin. But Celebrimbor didn’t seem to mind sharing what he knew.

Before Narvi realized it, they had reached the Westgate. King Durin was already there with his advisors and other nobles as they examined the gates. He seemed pleased with it, and after testing to see how it opened and closed, congratulated the two craftsmen on the achievement and said the doors would remain open. Durin gave some sort of speech, but Narvi was barely paying attention. She wasn’t one for speeches. After, Khel gave Durin a ring.

It certainly was a ring fitting a Dwarf King, and Celebrimbor was obviously rather proud of it. Narvi was just glad he hadn’t gone all Elvish with all those curling lines and leaf motifs. It wouldn’t have suited Durin at all. But the ring was hearty and had a deep blue stone set in it. Durin blue. Narvi smiled, of course, Khel had done his homework and matched the stone in it to its owner. And yet there was something about the ring that Narvi couldn’t quite place. For now, she put it out of her mind and instead asked the Elf more about what he was working on in Hollin. He was only too happy to tell her. He chattered long into the night like a well-fed fire that Narvi could spend ages staring at.

* * *

Death wasn’t as bad as she thought it’d be. She had plenty of time and space to work on her crafts. All the resources she could ever want or need. The fires burned hot and clean-

Narvi paused and stared deep into the forge she had claimed as hers within Mahal’s Halls. The coals flickered like sunlight bouncing off of his hair. She put her hammer down and considered. It hadn’t been long since she’d been dead. Only a few days. But she was worried about him. Something had gone wrong, she knew. Something had gone terribly wrong.

She thought about it for several long moments before turning and leaving the forges. She had until Dagor Dagorath to work on projects. But, if she remembered right, Eregion had been under siege. She had to check on Khel. Mahal knew the Elf could never look after himself. He was probably doing something completely unhelpful while his people cleaned up the last of the forces that had attacked them. He could so easily get distracted and all…

When the light of Gimlîn-zâram cleared away, Narvi’s eyes were still blinded. She blinked and rubbed her eyes to try and clear them even as a heart-stopping scream echoed. She froze and was unable to look up even as her eyes cleared to see rough-hewn stones beneath her ghostly feet. There was another scream that seemed to tear her heart into tiny pieces and her eyes burned though the brilliant light of Gimlîn-zâram no longer stayed with her.

Black speech spat and hissed, and Narvi had to force herself to look up.

She couldn’t stop the cry from escaping.

Celebrimbor was hanging in the center of the room, naked and battered. Blood stained his pale skin, and his fiery hair she so loved was a tangled dirty mess. But his once gentle eyes flared blue flames as he glared at a being Narvi had never before seen. He was in black, and a strange shadow seemed to wrap around him like a cloak. “I will never tell you where they are,” Khel said firmly. “I will not let you use the rings to harm others, Deceiver!”

A voice that made her very soul want to curl away from it spat and hissed more black speech. It made her cringe and want to flee, but she couldn’t seem to move. Narvi saw an orc with a whip step forward. Her eyes widened, and she only had time to register it was tipped with metal before it tore into Celebrimbor’s back. He screamed again, and Narvi had to turn away.

Her sweet ridiculous Elf… surely they would save him. His people had to be looking for him. They would not let this happen.

The whip snapped angrily, and he screamed again. Narvi had to flee. She could not watch those monsters torture him. She could not watch as his back was shredded by their cruel whips when he refused them.

It did not take long for Narvi to find out what had happened. Celebrimbor’s elves had sent a warning to Durin that _Annatar_ was no giver of gifts. Narvi was horrified that Sauron had been the one behind it all. That he had betrayed the elves, betrayed Khel, in such a horrible way. And now he wanted the rings. He just didn’t know whom Celebrimbor had sent them to. 

Narvi could not watch the bright-eyed fiery-haired smith be torn apart but neither could she seem to stay away. Surely, surely the Elves would get him back! She had to make sure! Only for a second, she would check in on him. By now he had to be safe and healing. It had been days!

He was not.

She felt sick as she heard his screams and watched them torture him in the brief flashes of time that she managed to stay. They beat him, burned him and cut him, starved him and kept him awake, they tormented him endlessly and soon Narvi was practically begging for him to just tell them. It wasn’t so important compared to his life! Nobody could keep silent under such conditions for so long. He bit his lip so hard it bled down his chin and still he tried to say nothing.

Narvi cried as she saw the brilliant flames in him start to peter out. He had been so hurt and was still being hurt. 

And finally, after far too long, he _broke_.

First came the rings of men. Nine of them. He told them where they were, who had them.

It should have been a relief. He had told them. But it wasn’t. It ground her broken heart into dust to see him in tears from his own words. He told them, but he hated that he had. “Khel…” She wanted to comfort him, but he couldn’t hear her. She wanted to let him know that nobody could have remained silent after what they did. His body was in shambles from their weapons, and he had held out so long… But he couldn’t hear her. He was alive, and she was dead. And she couldn’t help him at all.

He would no tell them of the Dwarf-rings.

They were not pleased.

The Kings of Men that had the Rings came to Sauron. They helped. Narvi could rip them to shreds with her bare hands.

Celebrimbor fought to stay silent but they broke his soul further. His sweet and gentle heart was punished for its loyalty and trust, and Narvi could only rage at the injustice.

He could not stay silent forever. He told them of the Dwarf-rings. He cried again. Twice he had failed to keep his secrets, but Narvi could not bring herself to blame him. He had fought so hard… She called out to him again. Useless she knew. But she had to try.

“And the Elf rings.” 

Narvi turned to glare at the creature that had been a king of men and was now torturing the Elf for so long. Its voice sounded sweet and soothing and yet she knew better. Underneath was a sour rotted core that was barely covered by the film of wholesomeness. Much like his master. Celebrimbor looked up, eyes swollen and lips cracked and bleeding. “Tell me where they are,” the voice demanded again.

Celebrimbor did not answer.

Narvi fled again as the torture began again. She couldn’t.

She forced herself to stay away from the horrors as long as she could. She realized that the elves could not get to him. And he must realize it as well. He was so smart… he would have realized it ages ago. Narvi cried for him until she couldn’t any longer. Until tears simply weren’t enough to express it.

When next she came to him, he was a damaged pile of limbs upon the stone floor. His fire hair splayed all around him as a bloody halo. She knelt down beside him and wished she could touch him. Comfort him. His breathing was thin and reedy. His blue eyes that had been so warm and gentle were now cold and remote. Broken somehow deep in their crystalline depths. “Khel… I’m here. I know you can’t hear me, but I am. You’re not alone. You’re so strong, Khel… None of this is your fault. I promise… Oh, Khel…”

The door to the small room opened, and Narvi turned to see a large orc spattered with blood come in with a wicked grin. He grabbed the elf by the throat and hauled him up, causing Celebrimbor to choke and gasp. “Why don’t you just tell us where the rings are, Elf-scum?” the orc demanded.

Narvi didn’t think he could answer even if he wanted to. The orc gave a disgusted sound and hurled the elf hard into the wall. Narvi shouted even as Celebrimbor slid to the ground with a new cut upon his head. Blood trickled from the cut to seep into his long hair. Narvi watched with a mix of sorrow and gladness as his eyes drifted further away and his breath finally left him. She closed her eyes tightly but couldn’t manage anymore tears. He wouldn’t be suffering any longer.

She paid the orcs little attention as she thanked Mahal that he no longer had to suffer. He was finally safely away from this horrible place. She wished that she could do more for him. That she could try and fix his wounded soul but she couldn’t. She was in Mahal’s Halls, and he was elsewhere.

Suddenly, she heard a strange chuffing laughter of a large crowd and Narvi slowly raised her head in confusion. The craftswoman followed the sound out of the small room and realized that she was on the second floor and below was an entire great room filled with filthy orcs. She sneered at them, as hate built in her chest. These creatures had tortured Celebrimbor. For Sauron. The most evil, disgraceful of beings.

An arrow whipped past, and she followed its line in confusion. Her breath caught in utter horror as the arrow buried itself deep into the chest of her dear friend’s body. Somehow, while she grieved, the orcs had taken his body and dragged him out here. They had strung him up and now… Another arrow whipped past, and Narvi closed her eyes tight.

The sound of another arrow sinking into flesh made Narvi flinch even as the orcs cheered their depraved game. The horrible image was engraved in her mind, heart, and soul. Khel, with his beautiful hair being blown by the wind of the open doors like some blood-drenched flag with his body being desecrated even after all they had done to him. 

Narvi fled to her rooms in the Halls and did not leave them. Not for a very long time.

Sauron could never pay enough for what he’d done. Never, no matter how many years passed. Him and all of his works had _destroyed_ Celebrimbor. He had been good and sweet and lightness itself. Narvi had never hated anyone or anything like she hated _him_.

When she finally left her rooms and returned to her forge she spoke little. 

She made a hair clasp.


End file.
